


30 Day OTP Porn Challenge

by darkangel0410



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Accidental Voyeurism, Dom!Patrick/sub!Pete, Dom!Pete/sub!Patrick, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, First Time, Gags, Genderswap, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Porn, Spanking, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just an excuse to write porn, really; got the idea and the list of prompts from here: http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com/post/39525363882/30-day-otp-porn-challenge. Hope everyone likes the drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1, prompt: masturbation

Patrick blinked his eyes open and it took a second for it to register where he was.

 

  
Right; he had fallen asleep on Pete's couch while they were watching  _Lost Boys_  for the thousandth time. Looking around, he realized Pete must have finally went to try to sleep.

 

  
He rolled off the couch and stretched before he grabbed his glasses off the coffee table where Pete must have put them and headed upstairs to the guest bedroom.

 

  
Patrick paused when he walked by Pete's bedroom; the door was cracked and he heard a rustling noise like maybe Pete was trying to get comfortable. He was about to push the door open and say something when Pete let out a low moan.

 

  
He froze for a minute, his mind supplying images for him of what Pete looked like at that exact second; his legs braced against the mattress, thrusting up into his own fist.

 

  
Patrick shook his head and backed up a couple steps; he tried to talk himself into walking away, going down to the other bedroom and try to block out any and all visuals from this and pretend it never happened.

 

  
Just as he turned to keep going down the hall, he heard Pete breathe out, “'Trick,” in a rough voice.

 

  
Almost like a dream, Patrick watched his hand reach out and push the door open a few more inches as he silently stepped closer to the doorway.

 

  
Patrick's breath caught at the sight in front of him: Pete was sprawled on the bed, his legs spread as far as they could go, his feet on the bed.

 

  
Patrick could hear the slippery wet sound of Pete's fist as he stroked his dick, his grunts and moans getting louder with every second.

 

  
“Fuck, 'Trick,” Pete groaned and Patrick could see that his eyes were squeezed shut; his next words had a desperate edge to them, “your mouth, fuck, I want you to -”

 

  
Pete cut off the flow of words by sucking on the fingers of his left hand; the loud, obscene slurping noise made Patrick's erection even harder. He noticed, vaguely, that his pajama pants were tented to a ridiculous angle and his boxer briefs were starting to hurt his cock, they were getting so tight.

 

  
Pete whimpered around his fingers, his right hand moving even faster as he started fucking into his own hand. He moved his left hand from his mouth and down his chest, pausing to play with his nipples, before he continued on.

 

  
He paused briefly to adjust his legs and then Pete let out a needy whine as he started probing his own entrance.

 

  
“I want,” Pete panted out, his whole body tensing as he arched up a final time, come coating his hand and chest.

 

  
Patrick could only stand there, staring, as Pete collapsed back onto the bed and tried to come back down. He palmed his own dick when Pete took a shuddering breath and removed his fingers, a pained wince crossing his face briefly.

 

  
Pete sat up and rolled his shoulder before he looked around the bed, clearly searching for something. He glanced at the doorway and then did a double take when he realized Patrick was actually standing there.

 

  
Their eyes met and held for a long moment before Patrick took another step inside the room.


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2, prompt: double penetration  
> a/n: this is set in my Scars & Souvenirs 'verse.

Pete lay on the bed, panting; he could barely hear Patrick talking over his own labored breathing. His body felt stretched, pulled taunt.

 

  
“Look at you,” Patrick murmured, his eyes flicking up to meet Pete's eyes before he focused his gaze back onto the toy he was working in and out of Pete's body. “So willing to take whatever I give you. And doing it so beautifully, too; I bet you could take even more.”

 

  
Pete whimpered and tried to reach for Patrick; the restraints brought him up short and made Pete shiver slightly.

 

  
“Patrick,” Pete whined, moving his legs restlessly.

 

  
“Hmmm,” Patrick said, but it was obvious he wasn't expecting Pete to say anything else right now.

 

  
He pulled the toy out, adding more lube to it before he pushed it back in, making sure to hit Pete's prostate.

 

  
Pete moaned, his hips arching off the bed. “Fuck, 'Trick, please.”

 

  
Patrick smirked and set an easy rhythm that had Pete rocking up to meet every thrust and begging to come.

 

  
“Pete, I want you to look at me,” Patrick said softly as he paused what he was doing long enough to add lube to his fingers. Once Pete focused his eyes on him, Patrick settled more firmly between Pete's legs; he held the dildo steady with his left hand and started working the first two fingers of his right hand in alongside it.

 

  
“Patrick, I can't,” Pete shook his head and tried to move away from the extra pressure.

 

  
“Yes, you can, baby,” Patrick soothed, his voice warm and confident. “You're doing so good -you should see how gorgeous you look; you're being such a good boy for me right now.”

 

  
Pete made a happy noise at those words and focused on the familiar sound of Patrick's voice. Little by little, his body relaxed until he was once again moving into each thrust of the toy and Patrick's fingers.

 

  
Patrick waited until Pete was moaning and begging again before he slowly started to push a third finger in along the dildo and his other two fingers.

 

  
“No, 'Trick,” Pete protested, his voice thick. “Please, I don't wanna, please.”

 

  
Patrick stopped and waited for Pete to safe word; when there was nothing but a charged silence for a few minutes, Patrick smirked and continued until he had three fingers pressed into Pete's entrance along with the toy.

 

  
“That's it, Pete,” Patrick said as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of his sub's leg. “Relax for me, baby. I'm so proud of you, you're always so good for me, always.”

 

  
Pete made a small noise and slowly let his legs fall back open and he felt his body relax enough that Patrick could work his fingers in up until the second knuckle.

 

  
“Patrick,” Pete whispered, his voice rough; he was still almost achingly hard and he just wanted to be able to get off. He felt stretched thin, like any more pressure would break him wide open and leave his insides on display for everyone to see.

 

  
“ _Patrick_ ,” he repeated insistently and his hips started thrusting up every time Patrick pushed the dildo in alongside his fingers.

 

  
“Not yet, baby,” Patrick murmured, knowing what Pete wanted. “Soon, Pete,” he added as he pulled out the toy -and his fingers- out all the way.

 

  
Pete whimpered in distress at feeling so empty all of a sudden, his arms strained against the restraints as he reached out to drag his Dom back to him.

 

  
Patrick looked up from where he was putting spreading lube on the toy and his own dick; he took in the sight of Pete cuffed to the headboard, his legs spread wide, hips twitching up in search of something to fill him; his eyes hooded and dark, his lips bitten red, and Patrick felt his heart swell along with the possessive streak that Pete seemed to tap into with almost no effort: Pete was  _his_. Only his and the evidence was spread onto the bed in front of him.

 

  
Patrick situated himself back in between Pete's legs and slowly started to work both his dick and the dildo into Pete's body; his eyes were fixed on where he could see them disappearing into Pete's entrance, centimeter by centimeter, the way he was slowly widening even more to accommodate them.

 

  
“Patrick,  _Patrick_ ,” Pete keened, his voice high and breathless; it felt like he was going to split open. It hurt, hurt a lot, but that just made the edge of pleasure he could feel even more vicious. “Please, I need, I want, you to, pleaseplease _please_.”

 

  
“God, baby, you're so tight,” Patrick crooned, practically singing the words to him; he was in far enough that he he could balance his weight on his left hand and look at Pete's face while he thrust the rest of the way inside of him.

 

  
“So tight and hot; you're such a good boy for me and I'm so proud of you,” he went on and moaned loudly when he felt himself bottom out. Pete groaned and pressed his nose against Patrick's jaw, making wordless begging noises, his body starting to tense up with the need to orgasm.

 

  
“And good boys get rewards,” Patrick said, his own voice starting to sound strained. “Because you're so good and I'm so proud of you, you can come now, baby. Understand, Pete?

 

  
“Go on, come for me.”

 

  
It took a minute for the words to make it through the fog in Pete's brain, but once it did the result was instantaneous; he arched up as much as he could, a long, low whine spilling from his throat as he came so hard, he saw stars and then he must have blacked out because the next thing Pete knew, he was laying down on the bed, a light sheet covering him and his arms had been let loose and crossed over his chest.

 

  
“'Trick?” Pete croaked out, his voice hoarse. His whole body felt sore, like he been ridden hard and put away wet, but that didn't stop him from looking around for Patrick and trying to sit up.

 

  
“I'm right here, Pete,” Patrick said, appearing from the en suite bathroom with a glass of water; he helped Pete sit up enough to take a couple sips of water before Patrick laid him back down.

 

  
Patrick checked over both his wrists, rotating them to make sure Pete hadn't damaged any nerves, before he pressed a quick kiss to both wrists and laid them back down on the mattress. He got up and brushed a hand through Pete's hair at the distressed noise he made.

 

  
“Shhh,” Patrick soothed, his voice low. “I'm just getting a pair of boxers before I get back into bed. You can watch me,” he added as he walked over to the dresser; he knew Pete could get clingy after a scene, especially if it was something new.

 

  
Pete watched intently as Patrick grabbed an old pair of Batman boxers and pulled them on before he crossed back over to the bed and carefully curled up next to him.

 

  
“How do you feel?” Patrick asked quietly, putting his arm around Pete's waist when he rolled over and nuzzled his face against Patrick's throat.

 

  
“Sore,” Pete answered after a minute, his words were muffled but he had no desire to move. He took careful stock of how his body was doing; it was one of their rules: Pete had to be honest about how he felt during and after a scene, how it had effected him and if he lied, Patrick would punish him by not letting him play,  _at all_ , for a month or so. He had found that out the hard way.

 

  
Pete was sore; wrung out and exhausted but in a good way, in the way that meant he would be able to sleep for a few hours.

 

  
“Sore,” he repeated and yawned a little. “And tired, but good.”

 

  
Patrick smiled slightly and rubbed Pete's back; he didn't say anything else right now, just let Pete work it out in his own time.

 

  
“It was intense,” Pete went on after a minute and there was no mistaking the sleepiness that was starting to creep into his words. “I didn't hate it, but still, it felt...”

 

  
Pete trailed off into another yawn and his next words were barely audible. “I would do it again, maybe. Not all the time but, again, yeah.”

 

  
Patrick nodded even though Pete had finally dropped off, his light snores filling the room. He would put it on the list of things that would help Pete sleep when his brain wouldn't shut off for days and weeks at a time.

 


	3. Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3, prompt: threesome/group sex

Pete groaned around the cock in his mouth as he felt Patrick bottom out inside him.

 

  
“Fuck, Pete, you're always so fucken tight,” Patrick murmured, his hands squeezing Pete's hips.

 

  
He looked over Pete's body, smirking when he saw how tense his arms were, trying to keep him upright in between Patrick and Mikey.

 

  
Patrick watched as Mikey carefully pulled out of Pete's mouth, waiting for a few seconds before he pushed back in.

 

  
“You're being too nice, Mikey,” Patrick told him; he reached over and grabbed a handful of Pete's hair and pulled it viciously, using it to yank his head back. Pete let out a loud, shameless moan at the manhandling.

 

  
“Pete's a slut for rough sex; the rougher it is, the harder he gets it off on it -isn't that right, Pete?” Patrick punctuated the words by pulling almost all the way out of Pete and then slamming back in as hard as he could manage.

 

  
Pete whimpered and rocked back into the thrust; he looked up at Mikey, his eyes almost begging for Mikey to let go of his control.

 

  
“Go on, you can fuck his throat,” Patrick went on, his voice harsh as he let go of Pete's hair long enough to scratch his nails down Pete's back, leaving thin, red trails in his wake. Pete arched his back as much as he could and tried to gasp but all that came out was a garbled noise.

 

  
“I don't,” Mikey started to say when Pete started to suck along his length. “Want to hurt him,” he finished in a rush, his voice breathless.

 

  
Patrick let out a hard laugh before he pulled Pete all the way off of Mikey's cock; he fisted his hand in Pete's hair again and tipped his head back so Mikey could look right up into Pete's upturned face, his lips swollen and red.

 

  
“Don't you get it, Way? Pete  _wants_  you to hurt him; that's why he's been such an asshole this week. Right, Pete?

 

  
“Go on, tell him,” Patrick encouraged Pete; he tightened the fist that was in Pete's hair and moved his other hand until he could twist Pete's nipple hard enough to have him let out a low shout at the sudden pain.

 

  
“Please, Mikey,” Pete gasped out, his voice breaking as Patrick dug his nails into the skin around his nipple. “Fuck my throat, please, I want you to.”

 

  
Mikey bit his lip and tore his eyes from Pete's mouth to look back at Patrick;  _Patrick_ , Pete's best friend, the person who once punched a kid in the face for calling Pete a fag and threatened to beat the shit out of Jeanae after she cheated on Pete and they broke up for the third time.

 

  
_Patrick_  was telling him to fuck Pete's throat and hurt him, to be as rough as he wanted. It didn't make any sense; he couldn't reconcile them in his mind.

 

  
“Trust me, Mikey,” Patrick said, meeting the other man's eyes; he smirked a little but his gaze was warm.

 

  
He yanked Pete's head to the side, baring his throat. Patrick made sure he kept his gaze locked on Mikey's when he set his teeth into the side of Pete's neck.

 

  
Pete shuddered, a high keening whine leaving his throat; Patrick pulled back enough so that he could talk.

 

  
“Pete's my best friend; I know what he wants -what he _needs_ \- better than he does. I take care of him because he can't do it himself and because I want to,” Patrick said, his voice low; he brushed a soft kiss against the imprint his teeth left in Pete's neck. Pete groaned and pushed into Patrick's mouth.

 

  
“I know when Pete needs to be cuddled, when he needs to be treated with kid gloves and reassured that I love him, that I'll always care about him,” Patrick ran his hand up and down Pete's side, caressing every inch of skin he could reach.

 

  
“And I know when he needs to be fucked, when he needs to be bit and scratched, held down and fucked face first into the mattress,” Patrick pressed on the bite mark, making Pete howl with pain until he moved his hand over enough and squeezed his throat and cut the sound off abruptly.

 

  
“I know when he can't get out of his mind, when it won't shut down and leave him alone; when the words and pictures and  _monsters_  in his head won't be quiet until I make them,” Patrick loosened his grip and Pete inhaled harshly; Mikey couldn't help but notice that through this all, Pete's erection hadn't gone down at all, if anything it seemed harder than it had been they started.

 

  
“Pete's my best friend, Mikey,” Patrick repeated and he pulled back, shoving Pete's head forward again until he was eye level with Mikey's dick; Pete made a begging noise and tried to lean forward, only to have Patrick bring him up short.

 

  
“And he means more to me than you can ever began to understand. So, if I tell you that you can fuck his throat as much as you want and that you don't have to hold, you can fucken believe that I mean it and that it's what Pete needs at this moment in time.

 

  
“You can also trust me to tell you if you've gone too far,” Patrick went on; he nudge Pete's head forward enough that he could run his tongue up the underside of Mikey's cock.

 

  
“The only question now is if you want this, if you want to shove your dick so far down Pete's throat he chokes.”

 

  
Mikey took a deep breath and nodded slightly, reaching his hands out to clench in Pete's hair.

 

  
“There you go,” Patrick murmured; he let go as Mikey guided Pete to his dick and then thrusted down his throat.

 

  
Pete was his best friend and he always knew how to take care of him.


	4. Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4, prompt: genderswap  
> a/n: So, I've never written genderswap -I've never actually even had the urge to write it before. Not sure how this turned out, really, but I suppose it could have been worse. This is always-a-girl!Pete -I kept his name the same, but here it's just short for Petra.

“'Trick,” Pete crowed, launching herself at  
Patrick once the tech had taker her bass. She  
latched onto his back and dropped a sloppy kiss  
onto the side of his neck. “That show was...”

 

Pete trailed off when Patrick shook her off and  
she saw the look that crossed her best friend's  
face; she recognized the way his eyes were  
heated and dark, pupils blown with more than  
just the adrenaline of a successful show.

 

Patrick grabbed her wrist and tugged her down  
one of the side hallways, losing the rest of the  
guys and security. Once he was sure they were  
pretty well hidden, Patrick stopped and crowded  
her against the wall.

 

“Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is  
to hide a hard on with a Gibson?” Patrick asked  
darkly; his fingers made short work of opening  
Pete's jeans before he slipped his fingers inside.

 

“I'm -fuck- sorry?” Pete managed to gasp out  
and clutched Patrick's shoulders as he pushed two  
fingers inside of her.

 

 

“Bullshit,” Patrick scoffed; he wrapped his hand  
in Pete's hair and gave her a quick, rough kiss as  
he quickly started to finger fuck her.

 

“I know you do it on purpose,” Patrick went on  
and set his teeth on Pete's neck. “You tease me  
all night long just to get me worked up enough to  
drag you off as soon as we're offstage.”

 

“It worked, didn't it?” Pete smirked before  
Patrick raised an eyebrow and rubbed his thumb  
over her clit and made her eyes roll back ito her  
head.

 

“Fuck, 'Trick,” Pete whimpered, her voice  
breathless; she hooked one of her legs around  
Patrick's hip, trying to get closer to him. “Please,  
come on, I need -”

 

Patrick bit Pete's shoulder and pressed his thumb  
against her clit at the same time; smirking a  
little as she let out a low whine and came.

 

Once she got her breath back, Pete opened her  
eyes and groaned at the sight of Patrick licking  
his fingers clean. Patrick smiled smugly and  
captured her lips for another kiss, this one a lot  
more gentle than previous ones.

 

“Holy shit, 'Trick, you're going to kill me one day,”  
Pete muttered, her fingers going to his jeans,  
they were still clumsy from her orgasm but it  
didn't take long for her to get the button undone.

 

Before she could do anything else, Joe stuck his  
head around the corner and immediately winced  
and covered his eyes.

 

“Again? Seriously, haven't you guys ever heard of  
a hotel room?” Joe complained, the hand not  
covering his eyes waving around indignantly.  
“Come on, Andy wants to get back to the hotel  
and I'm not listening to him bitch because you  
two don't know how to keep your pants on.”

 

Patrick laughed ruefully and rested his forehead  
against Pete's for a second. “We're coming,” he  
told Joe.

 

“Don't worry, 'Trick, I'll just owe you one when  
we get back to the hotel,” Pete leered, doing up  
her jeans as Patrick smiled and stepped away  
from her.

 

She tangled their fingers together and pulled him  
after Joe. Pete smiled and thought, briefly, that  
this band thing had turned out better than she  
had ever hoped it could.


	5. Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5, prompt: Dominance and submission  
> a/n: I guess I should give warning for underage sexy times since Patrick's 16. Also, dom!Pete/sub!Patrick, which was a trip to write, let me tell you.

Patrick fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, barely able to concentrate on what his World History teacher was saying.

 

He had woken to a text from Pete which hadn't been a surprise; Pete texted him approximately four hundred times a day and a third of those were while Patrick was sleeping.

 

This text, though, had been markedly different and dealt with the part of their relationship that still seemed strange and new to Patrick, even if it had been going on for almost as long as they had been friends.

 

_**u knw the toy i gt u 4 xmas iwnt u to wear it 2 skl i wll knw if u dnt do it trick** _

 

  
Patrick had stared at it for almost ten minutes, his face steadily getting redder.

 

There was no way in hell Pete could be serious; how the fuck did he expect Patrick to wear  ** _that_**  to school? To sit there for seven hours and act like everything was normal? Pete had to be kidding.

 

But Pete never joked about this kind of thing -it was one of the few things that he didn't crack jokes about and Patrick had no idea if he could do this.

 

He set there until his mother yelled up and told him he only had twenty minutes until he had to leave to catch the bus.

 

After glancing at his door to make sure it was still locked, Patrick fished a black duffel bag out from underneath his bed. He pushed around the contents, trying to find the butt plug Pete had gotten him as a present for Christmas last year.

 

Patrick finally found it buried under the Polaroids Pete had taken of the both of them a few weeks go. He tossed it onto the bed and even though he was starting to cut it close, Patrick took the time to zip up the bag abnd carefully stow it back under his bed as close to the wall as he could get it.

 

He went into the top drawer of his nighstand and got out the lube; after looking at the time he hurried and slicked up the first two fingers on his right hand.

 

Patrick took a deep breath and braced his left hand against the mattress before he moved his boxers out of the way and sunk two fingers into himself right away.

 

He winced at the burn but immediately started stretching himself, gasping a little as the burn started to fade.

 

Patrick knew he didn't have a lot of time left, so after only five or ten minutes, he pulled his fingers free.

 

He hesitated one last time before he put lube on the toy and pushed it inside of himself.

 

Patrick took a couple of deep breathes before he kicked off his underwear, pulling another pair of boxers from his dresser and putting them on along with jeans and a t-shirt.

 

Grabbing some socks, he jogged down the hallway, wincing with every other step.

 

It was going to be a long day.

 

By the time history was over, Patrick was ready to say fuck it amd go home. The butt plug was big enough that it kept brushing against his prostate every time Patrick sat down or walked a certain way.

 

He had spent the whole morning half hard and miserable and Patrick wanted nothing more than to bitch slap Pete and get off, not necessarily in that order.

 

Patrick had just made up his mind to skip the rest of the day when his phone went off; Pete had been suspiciously quiet and it was with some trepidation that Patrick looked at it.

 

**_g 2 th prkng lot_ **

 

"Parking lot?" Patrick muttered to himself, frowning as he put his cell back into his pocket.

 

He ducked into the closest bathroom until the bell rang and he could use the side exit to leave the building without one of his teachers seeing him.

 

Once he was outside, Patrick carefully made his way to the parking lot behind the building; it was the only one that Patrick could see Pete being in. It was usually empty or almost as good as since almost everyone prefered to use the side parking lot because it was bigger and easier to get in and out of.

 

Once Patrick was a few yards away, he could see Pete's shitty Acura parked in the far corner of the lot and Pete leaning against the hood, watching Patrick walk towards him.

 

"Hey, what're you doing here?" Patrick asked, his voice a little strained.

 

Pete smirked but didn't say anything; he just grabbed Patrick's arm and just pulled him closer until he could slip his other hand into the back of Patrick's jeans, underneath his boxers and rested the tips of his fingers on the base of the plug.

 

"Had to make sure you listened to me," Pete said as Patrick let out a low moan and pushed back against his fingers.

 

Patrick went from half hard to full so fast his vision blurred for a second.

 

"Pete, please," Patrick managed to get out as Pete started playing with the plug, pulling it out a little bit and then shoving it back in roughly. "All day it's been, fuck, can't stand it any more. I need more."

 

His hips twitched forward unconsciously, trying to get some friction, desperate for it after being teased all day.

 

"Go on," Pete encouraged, shifting so his thigh was in between Patrick's. He pressed up and made Patrick groan, his hands clutching Pete's shoulders as he rocked down against him. "You can come whenever you want to, Patrick."

 

It was over quickly; embarrassingly fast if Patrick could have found the energy to care, but he just sagged against Pete, his brain hazy and his body relaxed for the first time in four hours.

 

Pete just smiled and petted his hair for a minute before he started helping Patrick walk around to the passenger side of the car.

 

Patrick went without complaining, his whole body still buzzing from his orgasm. When he sat down, the toy pressed against his prostate. making Patrick yelp.

 

"Pete?" Patrick questioned, looking up at him hopefully. "Can I take this out?"

 

"I don't think so, 'Trick," Pete answered, his voice as smug as the smirk that was twisting his lips. "There's still a few hours left before you have to be home. And I'm not done playing yet."


	6. Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6, prompt: wears clothing not usual to them...or something, I'm not entirely sure, but that's the gist of it.  
> a/n: when candy_belle suggested this, my brain went, "Soooo, Pete wearing jeans that actually fit." That's not it, but I was tempted for a minute, can't lie.

Pete looked over shoulder to make sure no one was going to suddenly come into the bunk area. He stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs and contemplated the red, lacy thong that Patrick had pressed into his hand this morning.

 

Pete wasn't one to wear women's panties; it simply never occured to him to try them. And he could honestly admit to not ever giving a thought to how they might feel if he did put them on.

 

But Patrick had wanted to try something different and if there was one person Pete could never say no to, it was him.

 

So Pete found himself slipping on the panties, trying to stifle the surpised gasp he let out as the silk slid over his dick. They were tight and felt slighty awkward, but Pete was acutely aware of the way they rubbed against him as he twisted and turned, trying to get a good look at them.

 

After a couple minutes of that, Pete picked up his iPhone and snapped a couple pictures to send to Patrick; the contrast of the red against his skin, drawn tight against his dick, his erection painfully obvious and one of his hand splayed across his lower stomach, the tips of his fingers just under the waistband of the panties.

 

Patrick didn't answer right away, but that didn't surprise Pete; he was in the middle of a radio interview with Joe. Pete just laid down in his bunk, drawing the curtains closed.

 

He lazily stroked himself -not enough to really get him going but enough to keep his dick interested- and waited for Patrick to come back.

 

Pete had a feeling it was going to be a long night -not that he was going to complain.


	7. Day 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7, prompt: spanking  
> a/n: I should mention that I have no clue if Patrick was at the two year anniversary of Angels & Kings, but for this he was. The only other things I can think of to mention for is brief Pete/Megan and Patrick/Elisa -personally, I don't think it warrants one, but people are weird, so...

Pete grinned at the photographer; he could feel Megan pet his lower back in an attempt to get him to calm down, but he knew it wasn't going to work.

 

Pete got like this sometimes, when the rush of noise and words and feelings in his head got too loud and refused to leave him alone. It made impossible for him to do anything but live in his own head too much, getting more and more withdrawn, until all he could register was dark and loneliness and a desire for it all to end.

 

It hardly ever got that bad any more; Pete had realised after Best Buy that sometimes you needed to ask for help before all the answers seemed to be in a bottle of pills. Having Bronx only reinforced that lesson for him and Pete made sure he reached for the phone when he needed to.

 

It was even rarer for Pete to get that caught up in himself because he was happy about something; he was better than he used to be, but in a lot of ways, Pete still had trouble dealing with happiness. Being depressed sucked, but it was something Pete was familiar with, like an old blanket from his childhood that he had never gotten around to replacing.

 

Whatever the cause, when it got like this, there was only one thing that always worked.

 

Pete waved to the cameras one last time before he laced his fingers with Megan's and tugged her into Angels & Kings behind him.

 

The door closed behind them and Pete took a deep breath and let his eyes adjust to the dim, smoke filled interior. He had decided to keep the inside press free and unlike most nights, they were only letting people in who were on the list.

 

Pete spotted who he was looking for sitting in a booth in the far corner of the bar; after a quick squeeze to Megan's hand, he started in that direction, ignoring the people who were trying to get his attention.

 

They were about halfway there when Patrick looked up and caught his eye; time slowed down for a second, Pete stopped where he was, half afraid to move.

 

Patrick smirked at him before turning away to brush a kiss to Elisa's cheek and said something that had her laughing a little. She looked in Pete's direction fondly and montioned Patrick away from her.

 

Patrick got up and headed straight for them, that amused smirk still firmly in place.

 

"Oh, thank god," Megan muttered, letting go of Pete's hand to step in front of him and offer Patrick a chaste kiss on his cheek.

 

"He's been like this all day," Megan told Patrick, rolling her eyes. There was nothing mean spirted about it, though, and the look she gave Pete was warm and affectionate. "I haven't been able to get him to concentrate on anything -he's worse than Bronx, I swear."

 

"Don't worry," Patrick murmured, his tone just a little dark; he reached out and grabbed Pete's wrist tightly and pulled him forward once. It was enough to have Pete move obediently next to him. "I'll get him to calm down."

 

"I'm standing right here, you know," Pete said, trying for petulant but he knew he only sounded excited.

 

Patrick looked him over and raised an eyebrow; he didn't say anything but it was enough to make Pete flush and bite his lip.

 

"I'm going to go have drink with Elisa," Megan went on. She gave Pete a quick kiss and turned to go.

 

"I'll see you boys in a little bit," she added over her shoulder with a smart grin.

 

Pete watched her go and then looked at his best friend with wide eyes.

 

Patrick met his eyes evenly for almost a full minute before he headed towards the short hallway that led to Pete's office. Pete kept quiet for as long as he could before he started rambling.

 

"Only two more days, 'Trick, I can't wait, it's going to be awesome. We get to sing together again and tour and Joe and Andy are gonna be there," Pete babbled, barely even looking up as they passed the security guard standing by the entrance. "And the fans, fuck, do you think they'll like it? I mean, of course, they'll love your voice but what about the rest of it? Shit, I hope they -"

 

He stopped abruptly when he realized they were in the office. Pete slowly turned around and held his breath when he saw Patrick close and lock the door.

 

"I want you to keep quiet, Pete," Patrick ordered, his voice confident. "I don't want you to say anything, understand? No words, no noises, nothing. Can you do that for me?"

 

Pete hesitated for a second before he nodded; he wanted to do what Patrick told him -he always did; nothing made him feel the way he did when Patrick told him what to do, when Patrick praised him when he succeeded- but what if he couldn't? What if his mouth betrayed him again, like it had so many times already?

 

"Hey," Patrick said, resting his hand on the back of Pete's neck and squeezing. "Do you want help? You know if you need it, that's fine, Pete. I would never get mad at you for needing help to do something I told you to."

 

Pete rested his forehead against Patrick's and nodded again; Patrick always knew what he needed.

 

Patrick moved away from him and rummaged through the drawers for a minute or two before he pulled a bandanna from one of them with a triumphant smile.

 

"I knew I'd be able to find something in here," Patrick mused, his eyes getting that gleam that Pete only ever say when they were doing scenes like this. "Open up, Pete."

 

Pete choked back a whimper and immediately opened his mouth; Patrick hummed in approval and fitted the bandanna back by his teeth, tying it in a knot behind his head and then tugging on it to make sure it was secure.

 

Pete bit back a moan, his brain already starting to relax. Patrick tilted his head and studied Pete for minute before he montioned him to turn around.

 

"Against the wall, Pete," Patrick's voice almost vibrated with that quiet authority that made Pete so happy to do whatever he wanted. "Hands over your head, presentation position."

 

Pete scrambled to obey, his heart pounding against his ribs. Patrick came up behind him, his breath hot and damp against Pete's neck.

 

"Look at you," Patrick murmured, his lips touching Pete's skin. "So eager for it, ready to do whatever I tell you to."

 

Patrick deftly undid Pete's belt and slid it out of the belt loops on his jeans. He took the belt and wrapped it around Pete's wrists, chuckling at the shiver that went down his back at the action.

 

"I bet you're so hard right now," Patrick went on and skimmed his hand over the bulge in Pete's jeans. He chuckled darkly when Pete tried to thrust into his touch.

 

"It's too bad we don't have more time," Patrick mused as he pushed Pete's jeans down over his ass. They rested on the tops of his thighs, unable to go down further because of the way his legs were spread.

 

"I think we'd both enjoy taking our time with this," Patrick said, rubbing his hand over Pete's ass, sqeezing and pinching him every few seconds.

 

Pete exhaled roughly, his breathing starting to go ragged. He closed his eye and bit down on the bandana, trying to keep back the noises that he wanted to make. He pushed up into Patrick's hand and tried to urge him on without words.

 

"Always in such a hurry, Pete," Patrick told him fondly and smiled a little. "I guess I'm going to have to wait until next time to teach you some patience."

 

Before Pete could fully process the implication behind those words, Patrick laid the first sting slap, making Pete jump. It was only barehanded but Patrick was stronger than he looked and it didn't take long for it start hurting almost constantly.

 

Pete started to hear that slight buzzing noise that meant he was close; it was drowning out all the words and everything else that flew through his head. He followed it to that place that was calm and quiet, where he could feel everything at once, where he was safe.

 

"God, look at your ass," Patrick murmured, running gentle fingers over it; it was red amd tender looking. There was no doubt in Patrick's mind that Pete was going to be feeling it for at least a couple more days.

 

He stepped back when Pete finally gave a full body shudder and sagged against the wall. Patrick carefully pulled up Pete's jeans and wished briefly that they were some place where he could put some lotion on Pete, maybe settle him in a warm bath to soak for a little bit.

 

When Patrick got the belt from around Pete's wrists, he was prepared for the way he collapsed against him; he slid one arm around his waist and maneuvered him until Pete was resting against the front of him amd Patrick was leaning against the wall.

 

While he was waiting for Pete to come back around, Patrick managed to unknot the bandana with one hand and work it loose; he shoved it in his jacket pocket with a smirk. He defintely had some ideas for that for next time.

 

Patrick waited quietly, his mind going over the upcoming tour and album release; he rubbed Pete's back almost absently, not really thinking about something he had done so many times before.

 

A few minutes later, Pete stirred; he wrapped his arms around Patrick and tried to get closer to him.

 

"'Trick," Pete said, his voice thick.

 

"Right here, Pete," Patrick assured him; he shifted until Pete could bury his face in his neck. "How are you feeling?"

 

Pete made a contented noise. "Better. I feel like I could actually relax and have a couple drinks, maybe even sleep for a couple hours later."

 

There was silence for another minute or two before Pete pulled back and smiled at his best friend. Patrick smiled back at him.

 

Pete slung his arm around Patrick's shoulders and gave him a quick, one armed hug as they left his office.

 

Neither one if them said anything as they headed back to the girls. But they didn't need words right now, not after so many years. They both knew the important things and that was what mattered.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8, prompts: voyeurism and telling someone about their kink relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the original prompt was to tell someone disapproving about their relationship, but I couldn't quite get that note here, sorry. Also, this is the first time I've ever written Dallon, so I apologize if he's terribly OOC.

"Thanks for letting me stay here, guys," Dallon said as he dragged his suitcase in the front door. "I really didn't want to shell out God only knows how much for a hotel room and Brendon and Spencer already left for Vegas."

 

"It's no problem," Pete assured him with a grin. "Delays suck ass. 'Trick, Dallon's here."

 

"Hey, man," Patrick greeted as he came out of the kitchen; he handed off a beer to both of them before opening his own. "We were just going to order some Chinese, you want?"

 

"Fuck, yeah," Dallon answered enthusiastically. "I'm fucken starving."

 

*

 

A couple movies and some General Tso's later and Dallon was ready to pass out and call it done for the day.

 

"Dude, why don't you go lay down?" Pete told him once the end credits for  _The Avengers_  finished. "We can clean this up."

 

Dallon hesitated; he was exhausted but his mother had done a good job of drilling some manners into him when he was a kid and he could practically feel the smack across the back of his head for not cleaning up after himself.

 

"Seriously, you look wrecked," Patrick added. He got up and started piling empty containers together. "Go get a few hours before you have to drag yourself to the Hellmouth that calls itself LAX."

 

"Alright," Dallon said with a slight smile. "I give, I'll go lay down.

 

"If I don't see you guys when I leave, thanks again. Sincerely, guys."

 

"We're friends, yeah? It's no big deal," Pete waved him off and turned to help Patrick clean up.

 

*

 

Dallon startled awake and flailed for a second before he remembered where he was.

 

He grabbed his phone and frowned after he swiped a finger across the screen and saw it was only a little after three.

 

Dallon cursed to himself as he got up to go take a piss; he probably wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep for the two hours he had left.

 

He briefly wondered if he should see if Pete was awake still -the other man's insomnia was no secret- but dismissed it almost immediately; they might be friends but they weren't that  _good_  of friends.

 

On his way back to the guest room, Dallon heard some noises that made him veer over to the master bedroom.

 

He paused a couple inches from the closed door; there was a murmur of voices he could barely hear over the almost rhythmic background noise.

 

"Listen to all that noise you're making, I bet the whole neighborhood can hear you. I bet  _Dallon_  can hear you."

 

"Patrick, I, please-"

 

"Oh, you like that idea, don't you? You love the idea of someone hearing you, coming to see how slutty you are, tied to the bed and begging me for more."

 

The words were interspersed with gasping and moaning and it wasn't until he heard a heavy 'crack' followed by a keening noise Dallon had never heard before (and one that, for the record, he hoped to God that he never heard again) that he realized what was going on and he had never moved so in his life as he did going down that hallway.

 

Once he was back in the guest room, he collapsed onto the bed and tried to calm his racing heart.

 

On the list of things he never wanted to see or hear, listening to one of his friends beat another one was on the fucken top.

 

There was no fucken way he was getting back to sleep now.

 

*

 

Dallon snuck downstairs, trying to be quiet; even without the show last night, he wouldn't have wanted to wake his friends up and now he had even more reason for avoiding both of them for a little while.

 

"Hey, want some coffee?" A voice from the kitchen asked.

 

"Jesus  _fuck_ ," Dallon whisper-yelled; he turned around to glare at a smirking Patrick. "What the fuck, asshole? You almost gave me a heart attack."

 

"Sorry," Patrick said unconvincingly. "I just figured you might want some caffeine before you braved hell."

 

"Yeah. Thanks," Dallon told him and took the coffee mug out of his outstretched hand. "What are you doing up this early, anyway? Lying in wait for me?"

 

It was said with a slight chuckle, but when Patrick just looked at him, Dallon almost choked on his coffee.

 

"I just wanted to talk to you about what you may have heard last night," Patrick said once the coughing stopped. "I wanted to let you know that Pete likes- "

 

"OK, that's enough," Dallon interrupted with a pained look; he took a second to gulp down the rest of the coffee. It burned his throat slightly, but he needed the boost. "Look, I don't- do we have to talk about this? Pete sounded like he was enjoying himself plenty last night and, really, anything you guys do is none of my business. Let's just forget about it, alright? Please."

 

"Alright," Patrick agreed with a slight smile. He took the empty cup from Dallon and wandered into the kitchen to put it in the sink.

 

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why isn't Pete down here, too?" Dallon wondered as he got his sneakers and jacket on.

 

"He didn't hear you last night," Patrick answered, sounding smug; he leaned against the doorway in between the kitchen and living room. "Once he gets that far under, he's not very aware of anything around him except me."

 

"Stop right there," Dallon demanded. "It's like hearing about my brother's sex life, Jesus."

 

He closed the front door as Patrick laughed at him; he tossed his suitcase into the rental and then climbed in the front seat.

 

As he backed up down the drive way, Dallon promised himself that next time he was staying at a friend's house, he was not going to investigate any noises he heard, no matter what the fuck they were.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: First times

It wasn't the first time they kissed.

 

(That happened three months after they first met; in the corner of Pete's parents basement, Patrick pressed up against the wall and his hands fisted in Pete's hair while Pete devoured his mouth and Joe cackled maniacally and tossed popcorn at them.)

 

Or their first blowjobs.

 

(Patrick's room while his mom was at work and his older brother was downstairs watching TV; Patrick had to shove a pillow over his face so Kevin wouldn't hear him moaning. Pete bit down onto his own arm and left a bruise that lasted for almost a week.)

 

But the first time they had sex was in a hotel room; extra money from performing at that night's dive meant that they could splurge and get two separate rooms.

 

Patrick closed the door behind them with a smirk and turned toward the bed where Pete was already naked and grinning.

 

(They were loud enough that Andy and Joe wouldn't stop banging on the wall and yelling at them to shut the fuck up. The next time they stopped at a Wal-Mart, they got ear plugs and made a point to where them whenever they were in the van or a hotel room. It was a joke that lasted for three tours.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Least porny drabble ever. Sorry.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10, prompts: bondage and gagging.

Patrick ran a hand over Pete's head and smiled at the way he leaned into the touch; he had been loud earlier, loud and hyper beyond what was normal for him.

 

When Pete wouldn't stop for even a minute, no matter what Patrick said, the solution was simple: he stripped Pete down to his boxer-briefs, put his collar on him, tied Pete's hands behind his back with one of Patrick's favorite ties, gagged him with another and ordered him to kneel by the bed while he worked on some songs on his MacBook.

 

It had taken Pete some time to relax, to be to just  _be_ , but once he stop shuffling around on his knees and making obscene noises through the gag to try to get his Dom's attention, Pete started to go under fairly fast.

 

He knelt at the side of the bed, the side of his face pressed against the mattress next to Patrick's hip; he was so far gone that it didn't even register with him that the hotel door had opened and someone else was in the room.

 

"Hey, Patrick, that song you're working on, I think -" Andy broke off when he saw Pete kneeling on the floor. "Uh, I'm sorry? Do you need me to come back?"

 

"No, it's fine," Patrick assured him; he put his laptop to the side and focused his attention on Andy. "What's up?"

 

Andy hesitated for a second; except for the hand on the back of Pete's neck, Patrick was ignoring Pete and seemed completely nonchalant about the fact that Pete was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. He decided to follow Patrick's lead because he had no clue what else to do in this situation.

 

"Oh, I just had an idea for the drums, that's all," Andy said and described what he had in mind.

 

He was distracted, though, and ended up trailing off a couple of times because he caught sight of Pete again; after it happened twice, Andy realized he needed to get out of there before he ended up the kind of distracted that required alone time to take care of.

 

Andy cut the conversion off, told Patrick he had to go and left without looking at Pete again.

 

*

 

When Pete opened his eyes, he was curled up next to Patrick in the hotel bed.

 

"Hey," Patrick murmured when Pete tried to sit up and just ended up leaning against Patrick's side where he was propped up against the headboard. "How you feeling?"

 

He reached over and snagged the bottled water that was on the night stand; he twisted off the top and held it in front of Pete until he reached for it.

 

"Thanks, 'Trick," he told him, his voice a little hoarse; he took a few careful sips of water from it before he handed the bottle back over. "I feel better, like I could relax and actually get some sleep. How long was I out for?"

 

"Only for a couple hours," Patrick answered as he put the cap back on the water; once he put it back, He reached for Pete's wrist and massaged it carefully.

 

Pete hummed contentedly and let the rest of his weight fall against Patrick's side; Patrick dropped the left wrist and took the right one And smiled when Pete yawned a little.

 

After minute or so, Patrick turned off the bedside lamp and let Pete get comfortable before he curled up behind him.

 

"Oh, before I forget, Andy stopped by while you were under," Patrick told him, his voice low. He rubbed a thumb over Pete's hipbone while Pete thought through what Patrick was saying. "He only stayed for a few minutes, but I figured you would want to know."

 

Pete thought it over; when they had decided to make another record and then tour again, him and Patrick had talked about Joe and Andy fining out about them. Ultimately, they had decided that Joe and Andy weren't likely to freak out or act weird about it once they found out.

 

And if Andy had freaked, Pete knew Patrick would have told him. He would just go talk to Andy in the morning and make sure he was going to be weird about it.

 

"Alright, 'Trick," Pete told him and yawned again. "Good night."

 

"Night," Patrick said, amused; he dropped a quick kiss on his sub's hair before he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's another part of this that I'm going to try and post in the next day or two, where Pete goes to talk to Andy. I'd do it now, but I'm half asleep and out of coffee, so it's going to have to wait, sorry. Hope you enjoyed this, tho.


End file.
